


the things in our chests

by kamyska



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, donghyuck: having a rough time, figure skating, jaemin/jeno/renjun: a pile of best boys, mark lee: the bestest of best friends, yangyang: also having a rough time, yeorum and dayoung: the loveliest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamyska/pseuds/kamyska
Summary: Donghyuck thought the worst of it would be over once the new year has passed, the Grand Prix done and everyone’s focus shifted toward the regional competitions coming up in the spring. He certainly was not expecting to wake up on a cold January Monday, ankle aching and mood already low, to his name trending on Naver. He frowns at his phone before he clicks on it, wondering if maybe there is a new up-and-coming idol who shares his name or something of the sort.Instead of entertainment news, the screen reads: “Sport: Confirmation of Lee Donghyuck’s end?  Kim Sonwoo takes on a new student.” “Sport: Liu Yangyang to transfer mid-season. A replacement for Lee Donghyuck in Kim’s Sonwoo’s team?” “Is Lee Donghyuck out for good?” “Lee Donghyuck: proof of the end of his career?”(Donghyuck injures his ankle and loses a full season of figure skating. To make matters worse, he is tasked with being assistant coach to the newest addition to their team, Liu Yangyang.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Liu Yang Yang
Comments: 29
Kudos: 214
Collections: '00 FIC FEST ROUND TWO





	the things in our chests

**Author's Note:**

> prompt #00064  
> this fic is about figure skating, however, i don't really think you need any or much knowledge of the sport to understand it. if you've seen yuri on ice you're definitely good to go. 
> 
> as always, i know nothing about video games so i am sorry if the couple things i mention here are completely inaccurate
> 
> cw // alcohol consumption, kissing under the influence of alcohol, description of injury and recovery, mentions of pain medication

Donghyuck doesn't hear the crowd cheer, he never does when he is skating. It's only him, the music, and the sound of his skates cutting the ice whenever he moves. That, however, doesn't mean he doesn't know the crowd is cheering, he did a good job on his lutz and loop combination, timed perfectly, no over-rotation, clear exit. Donghyuck doesn't make jump mistakes often, not in competition anyways, the adrenaline of it throwing him into hyperfocus instead of making him nervous like it does for so many others. Still, he's happy with the execution and would cheer and smile to himself if figure skating wasn't as much about performance as it is about the sport and his face wasn't perfectly schooled into something between brooding and manic to match the song he has chosen for this season’s short skate.

He rounds the far end of the ice, picking up speed to put into his next jump. The music is still relatively calm here and so are Donghyuck’s hand gestures as he skates, enough to engage the audience but nothing overly dramatic, not yet, not until the end when the music crescendoes into something fully manic. Now, though, the second jump of the short. He skates on the diagonal, shifts his feet into spread eagle and then it's left outside edge, bend the knee, lift off, hands come up, one rotation, two, three and then another half and he knows he hasn’t quite done it right. He is off his axis but he's dealt with that a multitude of times before, can easily fix it. Except he goes down and then - pain, searing, blinding and he is down on the ice, his back connecting with the boards.

  
This is also nothing he hasn't dealt with before though and he gets up with his mind still foggy and it hurts - fuck - it hurts so much to put any kind of pressure on his right foot and he's still not really hearing anything so who knows where the music is right now but he has to finish this and there is only one jump left, he should be alright. Muscle memory thankfully is a thing and while the pain in his ankle is jarring, he quickly picks up speed again, needing to make up for the time he was down.

  
He gathers enough speed for the spin combination and tries to keep his focus with the pain clouding his vision. It's a sit to upright layback spin, thankfully on his left foot so that he doesn't have to stand on his painful right ankle but that does little to ease the pain. Donghyuck closes his eyes and counts his rotations, then switches his position, ankles now next to each other and still so so painful, but he keeps his posture, back bent, arms extended gracefully, even if he can't quite help the way his face contorts in pain.

  
He exits the spin, closes his eyes to the pain of stepping on his injured foot again but manages to get through the twizzles and turns of his choreography. He still isn't quite coherent enough to know if he's moving correctly to the music but there are three elements left in his skate and he needs to just make it to the end, even if he knows already that there is no way he will be able to jump a quad sal, definitely not without a fall at the end. He can always downgrade it to a triple or even a double, though, as long as he finishes the skate. He just needs to finish the skate.

He's in the correct place for his second spin now. This one requires a flying entry onto his injured foot and he steels himself for the pain that is sure to come but it still flares through his body and into his head and he is only faintly aware of his body hitting the ice, then his head joining it, then nothing at all, just pain, until he loses consciousness.

...

  
Donghyuck’s memories from from his time in the hospital in Moscow are foggy at best, partly because he was on a fuckton of painkillers, partly because he doesn’t speak more than very basic Russian and thus could not really ask the doctors or nurses follow up questions to the things they were telling him, which he hardly understood anyway. 

Most of what he remembers is slipping in and out of consciousness, Russian chatter around him. Nurses coming to put more painkillers into his IV drip, doctors coming to assess him every morning and evening, the X-ray and CT technicians who always had really soothing voices even if Donghyuck had no idea what they were telling him. He remembers the sunset burning orange in his room around 4pm, even if time meant nothing to him when he was in the hospital, remembers that most of the food tasted awful but he was so doped up he didn’t care much.

He stayed there for two weeks while the doctors put screws and plates into his fractured bones, while they stitched torn ligaments together. It’s an injury that should not be possible, the doctors have told him through a translator, not in the skates he was wearing at least. “The sole of the skate broke when you landed, must have been either old or faulty, I’m sorry,” is what coach Kim tells him when he comes to visit him in the orange-lit hospital room. Never should have happened, Donghyuck had thought, the chances of it were miniscule. In a way, it was a miracle that the damage he sustained was so vast.

He’s glad when he gets released from there, the purple-green of his leg covered in a cast which sets off the metal detectors at the airport. Somehow they let him through, though, even if he could be bringing home a Kalashnikov or two with how big the case around his leg is. Maybe they don’t think someone so pitiful looking would be bringing in anything dangerous. Which, to be fair, Donghyuck really isn’t.

The flight would be hell if he wasn’t floating on a cloud of morphine the whole 9 hours of it, the time passing by without him even noticing. His parents pick him up at the airport and his mother has tears in her eyes when she sees him in the wheelchair the staff had kindly provided. They have decided Donghyuck would stay with them at least for the first few weeks when he is not allowed to put weight on his foot at all, just to avoid any crutch-related accidents. Donghyuck can’t say he’s looking forward to his mum fussing over him for the next month but he guesses it beats the alternative which is hopping around his apartment and doing everything himself.

...

“We don’t know. It’s possible. But at this point we just can’t say.” Doctor Lim’s eyes are kind as she delivers the news, the images from Donghyuck’s X-rays up on her screen. "I assure you we will do everything we can to get you back to skating professionally but at this stage we cannot say if the damage is too great or not." 

Donghyuck has expected that, the limited information from the Russian doctors and the extensive Naver searches he had conducted in the hospital have told him as much. That doesn't mean his heart doesn't feel infinitely heavier when he hears doctor Lim actually say it, doesn't in any way help the hollowness of his insides. If anything he feels exponentially heavier now, finds it hard to take in the rest of what doctor Lim is saying now that his last hope at some sort of medical miracle was squashed.

He focuses his eyes on doctor Lim's mouth, tries to commit everything she's saying to memory so that he doesn't forget all the crucial information the moment he steps out of her office. Eight weeks of strict bed rest, a surgery to remove the metal plates now in his foot during week five, the start of therapy after those two months. At least four months of therapy before he can think about putting skates on again. Adjustments to be expected depending on how his body heals. 

It's going to be one hell of a winter.

His mom is waiting for him when he wheels out of the doctor's office, the worry in her eyes even more pronounced than it had been during the weekend. She thanks doctor Lim through the door and grabs the push handles of the wheelchair to manoeuvre him from the clinic. She doesn't speak to Donghyuck on their way to the car and he appreciates having a bit of time to pull himself together before he has to relay the news to her.

He gets in the car and waits while his mom returns the wheelchair, taking deep breaths to shove the inevitable tears as far back into his head as possible. He doesn't want to worry his mom more than she already is, doesn't want her to ask questions about his mental state with the same frequency she asks about everything physical.

They drive home and he manages to give her the news calmly and she starts making plans immediately for how they will rearrange their schedules so that he has someone with him at home at all times, how they will change his room around so it's more accessible and so on and so on and Donghyuck finds his really hard to focus on that, to focus on anything other than 'it will be at least six months before you can step on the ice again'. So he nods dumbly and agrees to whatever she suggests, words going in one ear and out the other.

He spends the day like that, numb to everything happening around him. Not that anything is really happening anyway. He doesn't really take anything in until Mark comes to visit him in the evening, letting himself into Donghyuck's bedroom as if it were his own and sitting down on his bed next to him. They don't speak for a while, Mark sitting quietly next to Donghyuck, waiting for him to start talking.

Donghyuck opens his mouth and, to his own surprise, starts crying. He was trying to find the right point to start the story from but tears are what finds him first, running down his cheeks uncontrolled and choking him up. Mark makes a soft noise of concern and hugs him as tight as their position permits, bringing one of his hands to scratch at Donghyuck’s scalp the way he knows Donghyuck likes it. It’s painfully familiar and grounding like always, but it also bursts the bubble of indifference Donghyuck has built around himself after the fall and everything that happened hits him all at once.

He tries to suffocate his sobs in Mark’s chest when they turn ugly and loud, every tear he has been saving over the past three weeks coming out now. Mark says nothing but starts to hum after a couple minutes, the notes vibrating in his chest and mixing with the sound of Donghyuck crying. They stay like that until Donghyuck’s eyes are red and puffy and the front of Mark’s shirt is soaked and sticking to both his chest and Donghyuck’s cheek. It is objectively a rather disgusting situation to be in but Mark doesn’t say a word about the snot now undoubtedly on his shirt and Donghyuck is much too sad to care about his physical state.

Mark has tissues when Donghyuck finally detaches from his front and he keeps his hand in Donghyuck’s hair as he blows his nose and tries to pat his face at least somewhat dry. It’s only after that that Donghyuck looks his best friend in the eyes for the first time since he left for the Rostelocom Cup three weeks ago. 

“They don’t know if I’ll ever be able to skate again,” he chokes out, voice almost gone, and it hurts even more now that it has been said out loud.

Mark hugs him again, tight, and whispers “I’m so sorry” into Donghyuck’s hair. When he pulls away his eyes are damp and Donghyuck reaches up to pet his cheek.

“You don’t need to cry for me, idiot. I think I’ve done enough of that for the both of us.”

Mark shakes off Donghyuck’s hand and his impending tears, a small smile forming on his face. “If they don’t know, it might still work out alright, right? Like, at least there is a possibility of your leg healing completely?”

There is and Donghyuck will hold onto that possibility until they definitely tell him the opposite because, really, what other option is there. He nods to answer Mark’s question. It’s probably never going to be the same again, but Donghyuck is willing to do everything and anything to get himself skating again, to compete again, as soon as possible. He’s already dreading not skating for the next half year, he cannot imagine what he would do if he couldn’t skate for life.

…

Talking to Renjun, Jaemin and Jeno, who show up the next afternoon, all fuzzy sweaters and warmth and concern, is easier, if only because Donghyuck had used up all his tears yesterday and hasn’t yet replenished the supply. This means that the person who actually cries the longest when hearing the news is Renjun. He starts crying when Donghyuck tells them about his talk with doctor Lim and only stops after his boyfriends stop making fun of him and start looking concerned instead. 

The three of them form a pile around Donghyuck as he tells them about his time in Moscow, about the hospital food and the orange sunsets and how he never understood what the nurses wanted from him. They’ve all had their fair share of injuries while competing abroad so it’s not something they’re completely unfamiliar with, but they still look very concerned when he talks about the surgery and the days that followed, about fading in and out for most of it. 

He doesn’t really want to worry them, but they are the people most likely to understand what he is feeling now, most likely to understand how much the need to be on the ice and not in bed burns his insides. They, after all, are no different. Their expressions of horror when Donghyuck tells them how long his recovery period is expected to be more than prove that. 

The trio stays long past dinner, filling the empty space of Donghyuck’s room with laughter, first tentative but later unrestrained, talking about what they have been up to since they saw each other last. Donghyuck misses them greatly when they leave and misses skating even more, their visit reminding him of what he is going to be missing out on for god knows how long. God, he will miss sharing the ice with Renjun and Yeoreum and the locker room with Jeno and Jaemin, will miss seeing them every day and gossiping about the latest news, about their respective seasons and the latest competitions. Thankfully he is too tired when they leave to cry again, so he just takes his prescribed evening pills and lets himself be carried off to sleep.

The first couple weeks after he comes back to Korea, Donghyuck sleeps. In a way, they remind him of his weeks in Moscow, people flittering around his bed and asking him questions he barely knows the answers to. The language is not a problem this time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to come up with answers to questions like ‘How are you?’ and ‘Are you feeling better?’ when his insides are a mush of numbing fog and whatever ugly thing has made home in his chest after hearing doctor Lim’s verdict. His leg barely hurts, the painkillers making sure of that, but lying in bed for days on end is uncomfortable at best and even when his dad moves the desk over so that Donghyuck can access the computer while lying down he finds it difficult to focus on anything. 

He likes it when people come around, Mark and Jeno and Renjun and Jaemin, together and separately. Even Jisung and Chenle appear at the door at one point and bring the chaos of youth with them. But when he is alone, Donghyuck spends most of his time staring at the posters on the walls of his room, at the clouds outside. And sleeping, which is not much more interesting, but does bring the absence of physical discomfort. 

He visits doctor Lim once a week to get new X-rays and CT scans and is told that everything is going as expected, which is good news, but also means that no miracle has occurred that would make his recovery go faster. He supposes he should get used to this, then, lying around and doing nothing, because it is what his life is going to be for the next however many months. On the way from his third doctor visit he looks out the window and tries and fails to remember the last time he was doing nothing for this long. He had first put on skates when he was three years old and he wouldn’t go a month without them since then. That is, until now.

...

He tells Mark as much when he comes over the next day, who raises eyebrows at him and calls him a workaholic. Which is fair, Donghyuck supposes, but then do you call it work when you are doing the thing you love? Donghyuck would say no. Mark, however, tries to tell Donghyuck that maybe this is fate and an opportunity for him to find something else he likes to do, maybe something that doesn’t require one to be using one’s ankles at all times. “Like reading! Or going to the theatre! Or knitting!” he says, waving his arms excitedly. Donghyuck knows he means well, is trying to make him feel better, but he truly does not want to do any of those things. He wants to skate, to feel the ice cool under him, the pressure in his ears when he spins fast, the cheers of the audience when he finishes his skate. 

Mark’s gaze softens when he tells him as much. “I know that, Hyuck. And you will be able to, I’m sure of it. But right now you have to heal and you can’t just spend six months staring at the wall. Plus,” he smirks, “I think you would be great at knitting.”

“Hyung, there is literally nothing more boring than knitting. Can you not at least pick an interesting hobby to convince me to have?”

“I rest my case, knitting is great. But seriously, is there nothing you’ve always wanted to try and never had the time for?”

Donghyuck thinks about it for a while, just to humour him. “…no?” All he’s ever wanted to do was skate.

Mark looks at him like he’s being difficult on purpose, then seems to come to a decision. “Well, maybe you haven’t, but I have. I’ve been begging you to watch Fullmetal Alchemist for years now and you’ve never had the time. Now you do. You better have seen the first season by the time I come over next. I’m not even gonna force you to knit while you watch it.”

That gets a chuckle out of Donghyuck “Wow, thanks, how kind of you. Should I be expecting you to show up with yarn and needles next time?”

Mark thinks about it “Well, maybe I will, just to threaten you with them if you still haven’t watched the show by the time I get here. Knitting needles are actually pretty scary.”

“Oh no, Mark Lee with a knitting needle, I am shaking in terror.” Donghyuck says in his most theatrical voice. “Actually now that I think about it it would be like you to accidentally stab a needle in my eye or something. Maybe leave the needles at home.” He pauses. “Wait, do you actually own knitting needles?”

Mark laughs. “No I don’t. But I could get some for you if you’d like. Also you forget that I work with sharp tools literally every day and have not yet majorly injured myself, you should have a little more faith in me.”

“Majorly is the key word in that sentence,” Donghyuck says, amusement making his voice light, “You literally have two bandaids on your hand right now, hyung. You can’t tell me you’re not clumsy.”

Mark narrows his eyes at him, probably trying to look intimidating, “Well, I suppose you have something to fear then. Anyway, wanna watch the first episode together? It’s been a while since I’ve seen it.”

“Sure.” Better than more conversations about knitting and Donghyuck’s abysmal lack of hobbies. Plus watching things means cuddles and Donghyuck is never opposed to those.

Fullmetal alchemist turns out to actually be a good series, and so does It’s ok not to be ok, which is what Jeno recommends when he tells him he’s decided to catch up on pop culture now that he is immobile. It’s better than staring at the wall and at least now he will know what people are talking about at least some of the time. He watches Itaewon class (Renjun’s recommendation) and Brooklyn 99 (on Chenle’s request), Descendants of the sun (because everyone and their mom and her mom have seen it). He even gets to some of the movies he had simply missed every time they’ve been on TV, like Titanic, which he swears he won’t cry watching but does anyway. 

It all blurs in his head and makes his dreams all kinds of funny, but allows him to float through the waking hours thinking about fictional people and not himself. Which, considering the state he is in, is a good thing.

Donghyuck still keeps up with the figure skating world, looks up news on Naver daily and checks with the figure skating side of twitter, has seen all of the competitions so far. He watches his friends skate and dance and break personal records, watches people who aren’t him take home trophies that he knows he could’ve gotten had he been in the competition. The Grand Prix final is the hardest to watch, a bar that he has yet to pass and thought that he would this year.

He tries to tell himself that what happened happened and that there is nothing he can do now, tries to not get hung up on the fact that his average score this season would’ve gotten him a spot in the final. If only he hadn’t fallen so damn badly. Mark reminds him constantly that there is still next year, and the year after that and he is right but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. This was supposed to be Donghyuck’s season, both him and coach Kim had high hopes for it. And now, nothing.

Donghyuck thought the worst of it would be over once the new year has passed, the Grand Prix done and everyone’s focus shifted toward the regional competitions coming up in the spring. He certainly was not expecting to wake up on a cold January Monday, ankle aching and mood already low, to his name trending on Naver. He frowns at his phone before he clicks on it, wondering if maybe there is a new up-and-coming idol who shares his name or something of the sort. 

Instead of entertainment news, the screen reads: “Sport: Confirmation of Lee Donghyuck’s end? Kim Sonwoo takes on a new student.” “Sport: Liu Yangyang to transfer mid-season. A replacement for Lee Donghyuck in Kim’s Sonwoo’s team?” “Is Lee Donghyuck out for good?” “Lee Donghyuck: proof of the end of his career?” 

Well, that would indeed be him. If Donghyuck wasn’t already sitting, he would probably need to sit down right now. There are many more articles as Donghyuck scrolls down, but he’s not really capable of distinguishing any words other than his own name and “end” in the headlines, too many thoughts swirling in his head. He puts his phone down and closes his eyes in an attempt to focus.

He is reasonably certain that neither coach nor doctor Lim are lying to him about his recovery. According to them, there is still a good chance he will be able to go back to skating. So, that part of the news is surely just meant to make the story more scandalous. On the other hand, he had not been told anything about coach taking in a new skater and while he is certainly free to do that without consulting Donghyuck, he had thought that he did not want to have more than two male skaters in the team at once. And if that is still the case, where does that leave Donghyuck.

Obviously, this could only be an arrangement until the end of the season, he thinks to himself, or something out of the ordinary. Or maybe Chenle is leaving and did not tell anyone (highly unlikely, but one never knows with people). But if it is permanent and if Chenle is staying then maybe, just maybe, coach knows something that Donghyuck doesn’t. Maybe he is really not expecting him to come back.

Dread washes over him like the shower he has not yet taken, leaving him with cold sweat on the forehead, shaky hands and adrenaline he doesn’t know where to place. He picks his phone back up and stares at it for a second before deciding that the best thing to do would probably be to just call coach and that 8:14am is as good a time to do it as any other. He will most likely be awake anyway. 

...

Now that he is sitting face to face with coach Kim, Donghyuck feels a little embarrassed about yesterday’s phone call. Sure, coach has seen him cry and seen him injured and barely conscious, but Donghyuck doesn’t think he has ever seen him quite that desperate before. In his defence, he had just woken up and looking at all the headlines had made him feel like he was drowning, icy water over his head and panic in his lungs, the idea of everyone lying to him about his recovery suddenly more than possible. 

Coach Kim, to his credit, was more than patient with him and managed to not only reassure him but also made sure Donghyuck was breathing normally again before he hung up. He did, however, want to see him at the rink the following day for reasons he did not want to disclose over the phone, so a tiny voice had been nagging at Donghyuck for the better part of last night, telling him that perhaps there actually is some undisclosed horrible news. 

He can’t really tell what this is about from Coach’s expression, the scowl a permanent feature on his face no matter what he is feeling. As such, Donghyuck just waits, his fingers drumming nervously into his thigh hidden under the table. There is a considerable period of silence in which Coach Kim seems to ponder how to start the conversation and Donghyuck goes through about fifteen scenarios of horrible things this could be about.

“Donghyuck.”

“Yes sir.”

“As I am aware you are aware, Liu Yangyang is coming to train with us starting next week. As I’ve told you yesterday, this is a decision made not only between me and Yangyang, but also a personal favour to coach Meier, whom I hold in high regard. It is undecided as of yet if Yangyang will stay with us for next season, but we shall be working with him to improve his performance through the rest of this season at least. We will be preparing him for the Four Continents championship as well as for the Worlds.”

“Yes sir.” This is basically what they talked about on the phone yesterday. Donghyuck is still clueless as to why he is here.

“So, I would assume you’re asking. What does this have to do with you?”

Donghyuck just nods, nervous energy creeping up into his throat and sewing his mouth shut.

“Well, I have been thinking about this for a while now and I would like you to take on the role of an assistant coach to Liu Yangyang for the remainder of the season.” Donghyuck sucks in a breath of surprise, questions and objections rising up his throat. “Please hear me out before you start objecting.” He punctuates the statement with a stern look and Donghyuck forces his mouth to shut and his body to relax back into the hard plastic of the chair he is sitting on.

“As I said, I have been thinking about this for a while. I don’t want you to stay away from the rink the whole season, even if it is highly improbable you will be getting back on the ice before the end of April. Plus, I know you don’t want to think about the possibility, but coaching is one of the possible paths for you if your injury doesn’t recover in a way that would allow you to compete again.” Donghyuck can’t help the shudder that runs through him when he hears that, the ugly thing in his chest stretching, making itself known. Coach is right, he doesn’t want to think, can’t think of that possibility. He has to get back on the ice.

“Of course,” Coach continues, “we’re all hoping you will make a full recovery. And when you do, we will need to be thinking about your programs for next season, about how we can improve what you had prepared for this season, if we should change things around and how. I think stepping away from being the one skating and observing someone else from the sidelines could give you valuable insight into your own skating. I think a new perspective, one not centred around you, would only do you good. And I think Yangyang could greatly benefit from some of the insights that I know you have. I know you’re a smart skater, Donghyuck, and you excel in the areas where Yangyang could stand to do better. I think you will be the perfect teacher for him. In addition to me, of course. I still am his Coach, you’ll only be there to help.”

That, well, is a lot at once. Donghyuck is honoured that coach thinks so highly of him, that he would trust him with such a task. On the other hand, the idea of helping someone who he will later be skating against, teaching someone while he can’t even put skates on himself, sounds less than appealing. He fights the sigh threatening to leave his lips. 

“Thank you sir. I suppose I don’t really have a choice?”

“Not really, no. But I hope you will see how this will be good for the both of you once you start. Plus, I believe you are the same age. I’m sure you will become fast friends.” 

Donghyuck is not quite so sure, but nods anyway. “So, when do I start?”

“We’ll be expecting you next Wednesday, afternoon training. I’m looking forward to it.” Coach adds a tight smile to the scowl on his face as he says it and it almost doesn’t look forced, as if he really was looking forward to it. Donghyuck, for sure, is not. 

...

Wednesday, like most things Donghyuck dreads, comes too fast. He spends most of the lead up to it complaining to anyone willing to listen about how unfair the whole thing is, which backfires on him every single time because apparently everyone else thinks this is a great opportunity for Donghyuck to be on the rink/make friends/get out of the house/learn new things. No one seems to care that Donghyuck just does not want to do this, thank you very much. 

He’s not quite sure what part of it bothers him the most, if it’s the new role being forced on him, the weird jab coach had about him not thinking about himself for once, the fact that he doesn’t really know Yangyang at all or that he was supposed to spend this year competing against him, not helping him perfect his skate. Maybe it’s just that now that he’s living back in his own apartment he has established a routine of going to sleep around 6am, getting up sometime in the pm and spending all his waking hours trying to move up to platinum rank in LoL and he doesn’t quite want to give that up. Maybe the idea of being that close to skating and not being able to skate makes his insides twist and churn, the ugly thing climbing into his stomach and making it churn.

Renjun offers to drive him to practice on Wednesday which Donghyuck appreciates a lot considering he is still using crutches. He appreciates Renjun’s reassuring speech about how Yangyang is a cool dude a lot less. Donghyuck knows Liu Yangyang fleetingly, the way everyone in this sport knows each other because they all grew up competing against each other. He remembers some of his skates, his strong points - pirouettes, step sequences, solid lutz. He doesn’t know much beyond that and is not intending to find out any more than the bare minimum necessary to do what coach wants him to do. He lets Renjun’s recounting of some old story involving Yangyang and a lost trophy go in one ear and out the other and focuses instead of the cityscape outside the window, praying for the afternoon to be over already.

Yangyang is already on the ice when they walk in, talking animately about something with coach Kim. He notices them come in and smiles widely at Renjun before giving Donghyuck a much smaller smile and an uncertain nod. Well, at least Donghyuck is not the only one not ecstatic about this arrangement.

He tries to maintain some dignity as he hobbles over to the ice, moving on crutches still awkward even after a month of using them. Coach smiles at him and introduces Yangyang formally, the latter flashing a quick smile filled with far too many teeth. He registers Renjun and Yeorum getting on the ice as Coach gives them a rundown of how he imagines this to work - first couple weeks Donghyuck will just observe, then he is expected to take over and oversee Yangyang’s Wednesday and Friday trainings. A meeting will be had at the end of every week with all three of them. Yangyang nods along, a focused dip appearing between his eyebrows. Donghyuck wants to go home. 

Donghyuck is more familiar with Yangyang’s skating than he is with Yangyang the human, and so what he finds himself noticing during the next hours has less to do with the quality of his skating and more to do with how Yangyang acts when he’s not in competition. He’s clearly nervous, which is understandable given the situation, but unlike in competition he seems to channel that nervousness into awkward laughter and sarcastic remarks about his performance when he messes up on the axel for the third time. He has a problem with his jumps, Donghyuck has noticed this before when watching competitions and it is definitely apparent now, about half of his exists being much less than idea. Definitely a worse statistic than Donghyuck’s, but then again, jump technique is his strong suit. How ironic, he thinks, that a jump was how he got injured.

Donghyuck’s focus turns to the other skaters every once in a while, too restless to only watch Yangyang. Renjun and Yeorum are perfecting their short, working on their swing rolls and crossrolls and ending up tangled up down on the ice every once in a while. Chenle’s got Mr. Lee, his choreographer, with him today and Donghyuck is not quite sure what they are doing but he can hear Chenle’s laugh all the way to the bleachers when he takes a particularly bad tumble. He watches them all and tries to focus as hard as he can on anything that’s out of place, that should be worked on, tries to focus on them so much that he forgets that he himself won’t be able to go on the ice for another six months at least. Because if he thinks about that too much he thinks he might do something truly stupid like burst into tears.

Everyone ends practice at five and Donghyuck has to consciously tell himself to unclench his jaw and unfurl his hands from where they’ve formed fists on his knee. He feels exhausted even if he’d done absolutely nothing besides sitting there and watching. While everyone else heads out to the locker room, Yangyang climbs the steps up to where Donghyuck is still sitting, trying to remember how to breathe properly and move his limbs. He has a smile on that is probably supposed to be friendly and Donghyuck guesses even he would think of it like that if he wasn’t currently having the shittiest damn time with everything.

“Hi” Yangyang starts, accent only barely audible. Donghyuck works to unclench his jaw again. “I just wanted to say that I really appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me. I can imagine how hard it must be for you to be here.”

“No, actually, I don’t think you can.” 

Donghyuck watches Yangyang’s smile falter and then return again, Yangyang clearly having steeled himself for more conversation. Donghyuck wants to go home very badly.

“Ok, you’re right, I probably can’t. Anyway, I was thinking that maybe this whole thing would work better if we knew each other a little more? Wanna maybe go get coffee after training on Friday on something?”

He’s trying, Donghyuck can see that. And he should be appreciating it but instead it just makes the poison in his lungs burn hotter. He supposes there is shame in there, too, for not being able to try like Yangyang is. For not being a better person.

“Look dude, I don’t know if coach told you, but I am only here because he specifically asked me to. I do not plan to spend any more time on this than I necessarily need to. Plus, I don’t know if you noticed, but I can’t exactly go anywhere.” He pats the crutches to accentuate the last point. Yangyang’s smile falters and doesn’t come back this time. 

“Ok well, I’ll see you on Friday?” he says in a voice much smaller than before. Donghyuck almost finds it in himself to feel bad about it. He nods in answer and watches Yangyang’s back as he heads to the locker room.

...

“You know, you don’t have to be an asshole to Yangyang. It’s not his fault you’re hurt and angry.” 

Fuck Renjun for always having a point. Donghyuck was really hoping he hadn’t overheard his previous conversation and they could save themselves this talk.

“I know. I just have no interest in being all buddy-buddy with him, ok? Better to tell him now than give him false hopes. Like taking the bandaid off.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the metaphor is used. Also I stand my case, I think you two would actually get along pretty well. You’re more alike than you think.”

“No thank you, please don’t force me to make friends, I have you four and that’s enough to give me nightmares for life.”

“Well even then, you could stand to be nicer.”

Donghyuck sighs. “I know, ok? I’m just tired right now, can we drop it? Please?” He pointedly looks out of the window to avoid the worried look Renjun is sure to be giving him right now. Donghyuck is not usually one to drop a fight like this, real or teasing. He’s just so tired right now.

They drive the rest of the way to Donghyuck’s house without talking, but the moment Donghyuck closes his door his phone pings with a kkt notification.

From: Renjun  
Do you need to talk about your feelings? Should I send Jaemin over?

Despite his mood, Donghyuck smiles reading that. 

From: Me  
no, keep ur bf to urself. just need sleep. see u fri

He throws the phone on the couch after, hobbles around the kitchen to heat up some leftovers and then throws himself on the couch too, ready to not move a finger for the rest of the day. And definitely not think about Liu Yangyang and his many teeth and bad axels.

...

Donghyuck doesn’t really regret being harsh during that first session. It did exactly what he had told Renjun he wanted to achieve, him and Yangyang now only speaking when necessary and otherwise keeping distance. Donghyuck still sits in on two trainings per week, pays attention and gives his comments at the end, but it’s nothing but a professional meeting of two almost strangers. Which Donghyuck is perfectly fine with.

Sometimes he watches Yangyang laugh with the other skaters, chatting in Mandarin with Renjun and Chenle and throwing smiles at Yeorum and Dayoung, who have both immediately taken a liking to him. Donghyuck’s glad about that, he’s sure it’s not been easy for him to move to a different country and under a different coach in the middle of season so it must be nice that he’s found people to be friends with quickly. Donghyuck is just not planning to be one of those and that is something Yangyang will have to deal with.

The training goes about as well as it can, Donghyuck knows coach Kim is good, that’s why he’s here, and Yangyang seems to be a patient learner, if not the fastest one. It’s dedication to trying over and over is what gets you up on the podium in the end though, no matter how fast or how slow you are at picking up the elements themselves. They work on the axel and on his step sequence, Mr. Lee coming in to rework it in hopes of bringing in a couple more points for both GOE and components. He’s doing reasonably well with that, Donghyuck supposes.

He’s still not quite sure why coach thought it would be a good idea to have him here. Sure, a second pair of eyes never hurts but it’s not like he’s gonna see anything different from him (or anyone else on the ice), they’re both watching the same person skate. And surely coach has a lot more experience, well, coaching, than Donghyuck.

He still comes on his two allocated days though, observes, gives pointers to Yangyang and sometimes to the others as well. The Friday meetings are a bit agonising and coach Kim is clearly not pleased about how little Donghyuck and Yangyang talk to each other but Donghyuck is fairly sure he can’t order them to be friends. They are grown adults and it’s not like they’re not fulfilling their duties.

Coming to the rink and spending his time benched doesn’t really get easier the more Donghyuck does it, his body feeling drained the moment he walks through the doors of the stadium, limbs tired and mood sour when he gets home. Summer can’t come fast enough.

...

The week before Four continents is when Donghyuck finally gets to take off his cast for good and starts physical therapy. It’s the first thing he is excited for since the fall, Christmas and New Year’s included. His calf and foot are wrinkly and withered and scarred but they are no longer covered and Donghyuck thinks he could cry.

He does actually cry a couple hours later, when the physical therapist stretches his leg and pain shoots through every nerve in it and up into his back and it is so so much worse than he had anticipated it being. He has to blink tears out of his eyes several times during that first session and is equally embarrassed and enraged about it, clenching his teeth to prevent swear words from spilling out of his mouth.

If Donghyuck thought attending the training sessions was tiring, this is a hundred times worse. The trainings are tiring, yes, but mostly mentally, his brain fighting anxiety and longing the whole time he is there. That happens in physical therapy as well, every new flare of pain adding to Donghyuck’s doubts about ever being able to skate again. And it’s terrifying, too, his body has never been out of shape like this, this unwilling to cooperate. Donghyuck is used to pain, used to falling and doing stretches that make his body burn and training for hours on end but this, this is different somehow. 

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s terrified something will go wrong again, a bone won’t grow together properly or a tendon will snap and he will go back to cast and crutches always and further again from doing something that makes sense to him. He keeps reminding himself that this makes sense too, that it is the only way he will get back, but it is a special kind of torture to go from two hours of physical therapy, whole body shaking and ankle feeling like it is on fire, to watching everyone else train, muscles working overtime, falling but being able to get up every time.

He says as much to Mark when they’re watching Four continents together on Donghyuck’s TV, uses his pain as an excuse to splay over his lap and make Mark card his fingers through his hair as they watch. Mark mainly makes sympathetic noises and scratches his scalp and it doesn’t exactly do anything to alleviate the pain but it does make Donghyuck feel content for the first time in weeks. It’s women’s shorts and free dance today so Mark is over for the whole day to cheer on Dayoung and Renjun and Yeorum. If things were normal he would be cheering in the stands at the stadium in Montreal and Mark would either be watching by himself or with Jeno and Jaemin but nothing is normal this year.

Him and Mark have decided to at least make an event of it, Mark bringing a duffle and his guitar and spending the four days at Donghyuck’s place sleepover style. They haven’t done this for god knows how long and Donghyuck is both glad for the distraction and happy to have his best friend all to himself for so long. They’d gotten chicken and beer the night before and just talked for ages, old memories and new stories, Mark played his guitar a little before it got too late and Donghyuck got scared the neighbours would complain. Mark did the dishes and only tripped over Donghyuck’s crutches two times and overall it had been a good evening. 

This morning Donghyuck had woken up to Mark’s messy wavy bedhead and it had reminded him of the couple months before Mark started college and moved to the dorms and stayed with Donghyuck in his flat. They were good months, if filled with more kitchen accidents than any other period of Donghyuck’s life. Mark hadn’t made much progress in the culinary arts since then but he was capable of making the both of them breakfast under Donghyuck’s instruction and careful scrutiny. They had gone their separate ways after, Donghyuck to physio and Mark to the clinic for his weekly shot of T and then to class.

Mark had brought him a rough wooden spoon when he came from class, stating that “he got bored and had leftover wood” which sounded absolutely bizarre to Donghyuck but seemed to be a casual thing that happens when you have mandatory woodshop once per week. It was very sweet nonetheless and who is Donghyuck to complain about a gift. 

The spoon is now nestled safely with Donghyuck’s other cutlery, shielded from the chaos of the both of them cheering on their friends when they appear on tv, Donghyuck sitting back up in fear of an excited Mark Lee slap to the face. Dayoung does really well on her short, nailing all her elements, but she’s in one of the early groups so it’s an anxious wait until everyone is done with their short skates to find out what her place is. She takes fourth in the end which means a good shot at the medal places and Donghyuck is immensely happy for her. She had worked harder this season than Donghyuck has ever seen her work before and it had brought results, too, national and international medals, cups won. But it never hurts to add another accomplishment. Plus Four continents has always been an unlucky one for her and Donghyuck knows it would mean a lot to her if she got on those stands.

There is a brief intermission of bringing in more snacks and some cuddling to calm down a bit before the free dance starts, Donghyuck both wired because Renjun and Yeorum are second as of now and they’ve been nailing their free in training and relaxed for now because this means they will be the penultimate couple to skate and there is time to just watch and enjoy. He gets Mark to play with his hair again and tells him gossip about the couples and their skates while they wait for their friends to appear. 

It’s an unexpected side effect of his injury, Donghyuck thinks, him not being there to cheer his friends on in person. He’s exchanged messages with all three of them but it’s not the same, nowhere near the same as being able to comfort them in person. He takes some comfort in the fact that Renjun has Chenle and Yangyang there and Yeorum and Dayoung have each other but still, it is usually him who is responsible for making everyone laugh when they get gloomy on competition days, pressure getting the best of them. He could’ve gone with them and not skated, he supposes, but he’s not very fun this year anyway so it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

He ends up gripping Mark’s hand so hard it must be objectively painful during the eight minutes it takes for Renjun and Yeorum to skate and for the judges to score them and then they’re both yelling because they keep their second place, have a shot at first if the last couple messes up and that’s amazing. Incredible. Wonderful. Just so great. Donghyuck is so proud of them. The last couple are seasoned professionals and they end up keeping their first but it doesn’t really take away from Donghyuck’s joy because that’s his friends right there! Getting second at Four continents! Look at them go! He grins at Mark and Mark grins back at him and his eyes sparkle and for a second life is nothing but joy.

...

Coach Kim’s team returns back to Seoul with pride, Yeorum and Renjun getting basically carried into the stadium on everyone else’s shoulders because of how proud everyone is of them. Others did well too, though, Yangyang getting 8th and Chenle 6th in the men’s and while Dayoung once again did not get to bring a medal home she did keep the fourth place from the shorts and that is impressive in and of itself.

Donghyuck also can’t help but feel a twinge of pride at Yangyang’s improved season’s best, evidence that what they’re doing in trainings is taking effect. While part of that is definitely choreography changes, the effort they’ve put into getting his jumps cleaner is definitely visible and Donghyuck hopes they can polish them even better for Worlds. Maybe he is a little invested in this after all, he thinks, secretly a little angry at himself for not being able to keep himself from caring.

They all get back into training fast, Chenle and Yeorum and Renjun only having a week until Juniors while Donghyuck is glad they have more time to train before the senior Worlds, the last big competition of the season.

Which is why he thinks it’s understandable that he’s less than happy with his parents deciding to leave for vacation the week leading up to the competition and leaving the family dog with him. Now, don’t get him wrong, he absolutely adores Mr. Fluffles. Would do anything for him. But between still having to use at least one crutch, going to physio four times per week and training two afternoons, he has little mental or physical energy to deal with an overenthusiastic poodle.

Jaemin and Jeno, who barge into Donghyuck’s flat approximately 20 minutes after they find out he has the dog, seem to think this is the best thing that has ever happened and threaten to steal the dog about twenty times. Which is exactly how many times Donghyuck reminds him that Jeno, whose eyes have turned watery and nose stuffy after about 5 minutes of enthusiastic petting, has severe allergies and would probably die. He does, however, promise to lend them the dog at some point so that they can take Renjun on a romantic hiking date. Mr. Fluffles is sure to love that. Donghyuck is less sure about Renjun.

...

It is that Wednesday, of all the weeks, that Donghyuck starts a new exercise regimen in physio and he’s exhausted and aching when he comes back home at noon, no thanks to having to get up an hour earlier to walk the dog. His physiotherapist had praised him for walking though, so at least that. He eats lunch and takes a shower and thinks about how training is probably gonna be intense with the Worlds just next week and how he really does not want that right now. 

He’s halfway through putting on his clothes when his doorbell rings and startles the shit out of him, Mr. Floofles running to the door to bark at it. It makes no sense for Renjun to ring since he knows the code to get in but Donghyuck just shrugs that off as forgetfulness and goes to let him in, only to find a rather nervous Yangyang on the other side. The nervousness seems to amplify as he takes in Donghyuck’s half-dressed state. Maybe he should’ve put pants on before opening the door to eventual strangers. He tries to somewhat cover his bare legs with the door.

“Um.. Why are you in my house?”

Yangyang takes a big breath, looking somewhere over Donghyuck’s shoulder. “So, basically, Renjun’s car broke down and he is trying to fix it as we speak but obviously he wouldn’t be able to get you to training on time so since I drive as well he asked me to get you? That’s essentially it. Yes.”

Of-fucking-course. Donghyuck is so done with today. Also Yangyang is at least 10 minutes early and Donghyuck has no pants on. He would like the earth to swallow him whole, please and thank you.

“Ok, well, you’re early so I’m not ready so I guess you can come in and wait whilst I get dressed? And then we can go. Hope you don’t mind dogs.” Donghyuck knows he’s not being the kindest but he simply can’t be arsed right now. He shuffles back to his bedroom before the front door even closes and leaves Yangyang to the mercy of Mr. Fluffles.

He tries to get ready fast but his limbs are unwilling to perform any more movement than they necessarily need to so he ends up taking almost the full ten minutes before he has his pants on and his shit packed in a bag to take with. He looks in the mirror before he leaves the room, takes in his dark circles and messy damp hair and sighs in resignation.

Back in the hallway Yangyang is sitting on the floor with Mr. Fluffles on his lap, hands in the fur on his back and their foreheads together and he’s… hiccuping? Donghyuck isn’t quite sure what is happening until he hears Yangyang take in a breath that’s ragged and followed by a sniffle and.. Oh. He’s crying. Liu Yangyang is sitting on Donghyuck’s hallway floor clutching his dog and crying. Donghyuck’s not quite sure how to process that.

He is pretty sure Yangyang hasn’t noticed him yet and he feels kinda creepy standing there watching him cry so he clears his throat in what he hopes sounds like a natural way to alert him to his presence. Yangyang startles and wipes his cheeks quickly, takes a couple breaths before he lifts his head to look at Donghyuck. Mr. Fluffles attempts to lick the tear tracks still faintly visible on his cheeks.

They just look at each other, neither really knowing what to say, until Yangyang pulls a grin out of the depths of the fake smile storage and nods. “You ready to go?” He says, obviously trying to make it not shaky.

Donghyuck nods. “I am. Are you...” He wants to say okay but it feels like the wrong question considering Yangyang is very clearly not okay. The other interrupts him before he finds the correct way to finish his sentence.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Let’s go if you’re ready.” His tone clearly says ‘please don’t push it’ and Donghyuck doesn’t, though that doesn’t mean he’s not curious. Or concerned. Even with the day he’s had, it’s not often he finds acquaintances crying in his hallway. But Yangyang clearly doesn’t want to talk about it so he keeps quiet in the car and tries to ignore the red rims around his eyes as they train.

...

They don’t talk about it.

Donghyuck doesn’t know if he even wants to, but it nags at him anyway, partly curiosity but mainly guilt for not doing anything to comfort Yangyang, guilt for possibly being the cause of his tears. He may not care much about him but he doesn’t want to be the reason anyone cries no matter how much he does or doesn’t like the other person.

But Yangyang just disappears off the ice the minute they finish training on Wednesday and he is back on Friday with a smile on his face and cheer in his voice like nothing ever happened. And it’s not like Donghyuck can ask any of their fellow skaters without them questioning his sudden concern and him and Yangyang have never spoken outside of their allocated training period which is not really something he wants to breach. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed either, knows Yangyang doesn’t owe him an explanation, especially after how Donghyuck has been acting towards him for the past three months. 

It stays on his mind nonetheless, all through the weekend and when his parents come to pick up Mr. Fluffles and after that, eating at his conscience as he waves everyone off for the Worlds the next Tuesday. On Wednesday evening Mark comes over, the Four continents sleepover deemed a good experience and thus to be repeated for the World championships, especially useful when those happen halfway around the world and thus are at the oddest time of day in their timezone. 

It is at around 3am when they’re lying in Donghyuck’s bed that the thoughts finally overflow, everything that has been festering in his brain too big to be held back.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m a horrible human?” He’s not quite sure how his guilt over what happened last Wednesday snowballed into this question, but it’s been itching at him in the moments before he falls asleep and he just. Needs to ask someone because he is starting to think the answer is yes.

“Um, no? What brought this on?” Mark shuffles in the bed so that their arms touch and Donghyuck tangles their fingers as he stares into the dark, trying to think of an answer.

“See this thing with Yangyang… literally everyone was telling me that it’s a good opportunity and it is! Like, an objective part of me can see that. But I just hate it?” It’s a bit easier to say to the darkness of the room, eyes trailed where he knows the lamp technically is. “Like, I didn’t ask for any of this and I just don’t want to do any of it? But also I especially don’t want to be doing it fucking badly because I know how important this is for him? But I just don’t think I have the energy to do it right? Or at least I definitely didn’t when we started and now it’s way too late to try and be his friend or whatever and I possibly made him cry last week so maybe he hates me now or worse is scared of me and I just?? Don’t want that?? I don’t know how it happened that I’m someone who people are scared of and that fucking scares me. I like people! People like me, usually. When did I become like this?” 

Mark squeezes his hand, thumb running over it in soothing motions. When he speaks it’s almost quiet enough for the dark to swallow the words before they get to Donghyuck.

“First of all, you’re not a horrible human. You are wonderful and warm and cute and funny and you bring so much joy to so many people, alright? I don’t think anyone who knows you is scared of you, not even Yangyang.” Donghyuck feels his eyes get a little misty at that, turns to bury his face in Mark’s shoulder to hide even thought it’s pitch black in his bedroom. 

“Hyuck, it’s been really hard for you, right? Since, you know, Moscow?” Donghyuck just nods, invisible in the dark but transferred to Mark via touch. Plus, this is something they both know is true.

“Ok, here’s what I think. I think you’ve been really sad and angry at yourself because you got injured and, well, we both know you don’t really like to talk about shit like that so maybe you never even thought about it that much or maybe you just didn’t want to bother us by talking about it but you kept that inside you but… Things like that, they don’t just go away, do they. Especially when everything you do reminds you of the thing that’s making you feel that way in the first place. And Yangyang coming here was another new thing that you could just, I don’t know, channel all that frustration into? And that’s why it’s making you so mad? What do you think?”

Donghyuck buries his nose further into Mark’s shoulder, closes his eyes, thinks. What Mark said makes sense, he just needs to pick his brain and see if it is what actually happened here. Mark wasn’t wrong, Donghyuck doesn’t like bringing negative energy anywhere, doesn’t like to think about the bad and the frustrating and even if the past four months were nothing but excruciating, he has never really tried to process that, to stop and think about what’s going on in his head. He didn’t think he was doing that bad aside from the permanent exhaustion but now that he looks back at it… yeah. If a friend of his were behaving the way Donghyuck was behaving he would be concerned. That doesn’t exactly make him feel better though.

“I think you might be right.” He murmurs, Mark’s sleep shirt catching on his lips. “How do I fix it though? What if I can never skate again and I stay like this? What if no one wants to have anything to do with me anymore?”

“Hey, we’re your friends, we’re not gonna abandon you because you’re having a tough time in life. Have a little faith in us. We’ll help you figure shit out, okay? But maybe we should sleep first, we’re not gonna figure anything good out at 3am. But I promise we can talk more in the morning and everyone else will be back next week and we can get together and make plans and whatnot. Whatever you need from us. But sleep first.” 

He sounds like he’s half asleep already by the end of the sentence and his belief in all of Donghyuck’s fuck-ups being fixable unknots the anxiety in his chest that was keeping him hard-wired, so he just throws his arm around Mark’s waist and snuggles in more comfortably to hopefully get some good sleep for the first time this week.

...

Somehow Donghyuck’s friends decide that since they all should be present for planning how to get his life back together, it would be best if they combined that with their annual end-of-seasons celebration. While no one brought a medal back from Worlds, there have been a couple season’s bests and no one felt like they’d done poorly, so it was deemed a successful trip. Plus, if they really needed some medals, they could get Jaemin and Jeno’s from the speed skating Worlds a month prior. But Donghyuck doesn’t think that will be necessary.

Instead, he gets drinks and snacks for everyone, vacuums for the first time in over a month, fluffs up the pillows on his couch and arranges everything nicely on the coffee table in the living room so that it looks like he has his life at least somewhat together. He’s just finished dusting off his childhood trophies when the bell rings, Dayoung and Yeorum bundled up in their scarves and hats downstairs. 

They both hug him still in their coats and smelling of the cold outside but their smiles are warm as always. They’re wearing matching couple sweaters and brought homemade cookies and maybe Donghyuck was a little apprehensive about this whole thing but as their chatter fills the flat he finds himself relaxing, reminded that these are only his friends and he has nothing to fear here. 

Mark gets in second and the blush from the cold outside gets much more pronounced as the girls absolutely smother him, chiding him for being too busy to even text them. The three of them have just settled onto the couch when the last group lets themselves in and this time it is Donghyuck who finds himself smothered as Jaemin untangles from his huge padded coat and immediately tangles around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. Jeno ruffles his hair and Renjun slaps his ass in greeting and then they’re all sitting in the living room, Jaemin still tangled around Donghyuck, and an expecting sort of quiet settles onto them.

Donghyuck supposes that, unfortunately, now is his time to speak. He did ask them all to come after all. Humour is his best coping mechanism, which is why he straightens his back, clears his throat dramatically, starts:

“Dear family, friends, we have all gathered here today to figure out how to get my shit back together.” That gets him a couple laughs and a smack on the knee from Jeno, an eye roll from Renjun. Sadly, now that the joke is done, it is time to actually talk about, well, the sad shit.

“So, yeah, basically, Mark and I have been talking and I, um, I think I’ve been having a really hard time dealing with this whole injury thing? And I don’t quite know how to make life suck less? Also I’ve been really mean to Yangyang and I would like to fix that but I’m pretty sure he hates me now so that’s probably not gonna happen. Any thoughts?” 

He feels Jaemin tighten his hold on him and Jeno’s hand back on his knee but it is Yeorum who speaks first, voice quiet and calm, hand leaving Dayoung’s for a bit to reach out and ruffle Donghyuck’s hair. 

“First of all, I know you don’t like to talk about this stuff, so thanks for telling us. Second, I know you and Yangyang haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, but I’m pretty certain he doesn’t hate you. I think you just confuse him.”

“Yeah,” Renjun chimes in, “if anything, I think he is under the impression that you hate him.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” 

“Well, it should be easier to fix considering you don’t actually hate him. 

“Injun has a point.”

“You have to agree with him, Jeno, you’re his boyfriend.” Donghyuck grumbles, more on principle than because he doesn’t agree with them.

“As for the rest,” Jaemin speaks from behind Donghyuck, the vibration of it palpable where they’re touching, “remember my spine injury? When there was a chance I would never skate again?” 

Donghyuck nods and so do some of the others. They’d still been teenagers then, a year before entering senior competition and so eager to get there, proud junior champions thinking the whole world was lying at their feet until Jaemin fell in training and needed back surgery and thus reminded them all of their mortality. 

“Well, I know we were kids back then, but I think it was a pretty similar situation so maybe it could help you a little?” Donghyuck hums, signalling him to continue. “Well, it definitely helped that I already had a therapist anyway so we talked about it from the beginning, not months later, like some people. But basically the biggest thing I took away from that was that I’m not just a skater, you know? Like, I was allowed to have other hobbies and focus on other things that made me happy. Because even though it was likely that I would go back to skating, that wouldn’t last forever and I would have to do something else with my life, right? So maybe we just need to find what the other things are for you?”

“But I don’t have any other things!” Donghyuck whines, aware that he’s sounding like a petulant child. “Just look at all of you! I literally only have friends because you all skate!”

“Not I!” Mark flails his arms in the air, “I am but a humble instrument repair student!”

“Yes, but don’t you forget we know each other because they made you try out figure skating when you actually wanted to play hockey in middle school. I literally know all of you from the ice. Plus I just don’t know how to do anything else than skate. Maybe I really should’ve taken up knitting in November.” Donghyuck sighs and slumps back into Jaemin’s chest, the ugly thing in his chest tying itself into knots again.

It’s Dayoung who answers him, speaking for the first time since they started the debate. “Hyuck, I don’t know if you realise, because in skating we’ve all had a career since we were like ten and therefore sort of had our path set forever, but most people don’t know much about what they want their life to be at twenty. Sure, the average 20 year-old probably paid a lot more attention in school and is maybe in university now and studying something, but we’re all still young. You don’t have to have everything figured out yet. That’s what being in your twenties should be for, no? Trying out new things, seeing what works, what doesn’t. Looking for new things that you’re good at, that make you happy. Buying plants! Knitting! Fencing! Going out there and facing the world!”

Yeorum looks at her girlfriend fondly. “I think you got a little carried away there. But you’re not wrong. Hyuck, I know having free time is a terrifying prospect if you’ve spent your whole life not having any but maybe this is a chance to enjoy it? And not, you know, spend every minute you don’t have to be somewhere playing League.” The look she gives him rivals his mother’s which is entirely unfair seeing how Yeorum is a bare year and a half older than him. 

“What do you know, maybe I can become a professional League player!”

“Ah, have you gotten to Platinum rank yet, Mr. Professional?”

“Shut it, Jeno. Stop laughing at me, you’re supposed to be helping.” But Donghyuck is smiling too, the laughter of his friends contagious, diffusing the heavy atmosphere a little.

“Ok, well, I still refuse to start knitting so… any other suggestions?”

A cacophony of answers ensues then, combined with Mark’s defence of knitting as a valid hobby. Donghyuck is not quite sure why he’s so adamant about that, it’s not like he himself knits. Maybe he really wants a new scarf or something.

In the end they make Donghyuck a list of things he does not oppose and pin it to the fridge for him to see in the morning when he comes to get breakfast. Donghyuck still isn’t quite sure this is the way to solve all his life issues but it is better than doing nothing. Plus some of the activities actually look pretty fun.

They also devise a plan for how to solve the Yangyang situation which is less of a plan and more of a "apologise for acting like an ass and hope he forgives you" which sounds a lot easier than it will be but unfortunately there is no way around it if Donghyuck wants their relationship to change.

After that's done Donghyuck brings out more snacks and people make trips to the fridge for drinks and Mark puts on a playlist that he probably meticulously curated specifically for this occasion and it's just… nice. Donghyuck sits on the floor, watches his friends as they chatter and tries to soak it all in, realising how long it's been since he has seen them all like this, since he's been in the company of people purely to be with them. 

They stay late and tumble out of Donghyuck's apartment in one big gaggle, Jaemin promising to get them all home safe. Donghyuck closes the door behind them and walks back to the fridge, looks at the list of things they have devised for him. It doesn't exactly fill him with hope just yet, but it is a start. The ugly thing in his chest feels a little lighter as he goes to sleep that night.

...

  
To say Donghyuck is not looking forward to going to training on Wednesday would be an understatement. It’s a different reluctancy than in January when he simply did not care enough, did not want to be bothered with something like training. Today, he is nervous, the jitters of it running through his limbs the whole time he’s in physical therapy, making him unfocused when he does his stretches. He drums his fingers on the barricade to let out some of his nervousness before Yangyang shows up, beating himself up a little mentally because he would not have to go through this whole apology thing if he wasn’t a dumbass in the first place but it is too late for that and now he’s made making peace with Yangyang into this big start of getting his life back on track and if it goes poorly he feels like the whole plan will just crumble.

Renjun and Yeorum are already on the ice and Donghyuck can feel their eyes on him when they skate past. Renjun shoots him a smile and Yeorum mouths “fighting” when they see Yangyang come in and, well, here goes nothing. Or, here goes everything, actually. Yangyang shoots Renjun and Yeorum a smile as he gets on the ice, then schools his expression into something carefully neutral as he approaches Donghyuck, who is quickly reminded just how much of a dick he had been and almost loses his resolve to do something about it. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, steels himself. It’s the same thing he does right before starting a skate and it’s funny how he feels more nervous here than he does in competitions.

“Good afternoon.” 

Donghyuck opens is eyes and Yangyang is right there, a slight tilt to his eyebrow and Donghyuck suddenly forgets everything he was about to say. He stutters out a “Hello” and curses himself because he may be many things, but he is never this awkward around people. Speaking is his biggest talent outside skating, why is this happening to him.

“Um, are you okay?” Yangyangs eyebrows are definitely concerned now and he looks like he doesn’t quite know how to react to what is happening, which makes two of them.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” 

“Okeeey. Can I help?” Yangyang looks both concerned and confused and Donghyuck is pretty sure he can hear Renjun snicker from somewhere on the ice.

“No. Well, yes, actually.” Jesus on a stick, Donghyuck needs to get his shit together. “I need you to listen to me for a bit, if that’s ok. Before we start training.” 

“I have to technically do that anyway since you’re my coach. But sure, I’ve got the time.” There is a curious spark in Yangyang’s eyes and Donghyuck hopes this means he has a chance here.

“Ok. So, basically, I know I have not been very nice to you for the past three months. I have recently been made aware that I was probably taking out some of my personal frustrations on you and I wanted to apologise for that. Because you didn’t deserve any of it and I’ve just been… difficult for no reason. So, if you would be so kind and give me a second chance I would like to go for that coffee you invited me to in the beginning. My treat, obviously.” Donghyuck feels out of breath as he finishes the last sentence, flickering his gaze nervously between Yangyang’s face and his own hands.

“Oh wow. I think I need a bit of time to process all that. But I would definitely be more inclined to accept your apology over the most expensive drink Starbucks has to offer.” The smile on Yangyang’s face is tentative, but there, and Donghyuck would buy him all the coffee Starbucks has to offer if it meant not feeling like he is a horrible human every time they train together.

They decide on Saturday, which is a day off for the both of them and Donghyuck actually puts some effort into what he’s wearing, some foolish hope that even if the first impression he made was awful maybe he still has a shot at making a good first off-the-rink impression. He’s not quite sure if this matters so much to him because he genuinely wants to be friends with Yangyang or because he desperately needs something to not go wrong for the first time this year, but matter it does and if there is any way he can skew the probability in favour of it going well, he will.

The café they choose is relatively quiet and pleasantly warm, a welcome change from the March cold outside. Yangyang doesn’t actually order the most expensive drink on the menu, but they do ask what it is and make the barista laugh when they both make a disgusted face at the description. They both end up with americanos and Yangyang with a cake as means of apology and it’s only when they get to a table and sit down that it gets painfully awkward.

This doesn’t usually happen to Donghyuck. Usually, Donghyuck is the person who makes everyone feel welcome, who has just the right questions and just the right jokes to make everyone feel included, but somehow after three months of giving Yangyang the cold shoulder none of them seem appropriate. In the end it is Yangyang who starts the conversation.

“So, what do you think about Worlds?”

It’s a simple question, the smalltalk basis of the figure skating world, one could say, but it is perhaps that that makes the difference because this is something Donghyuck knows how to talk about. To anyone, but especially to someone who he knows is as invested as he is. All it takes is that one question and he’s talking, they’re talking, the past months put aside for now. They’ve only ever seen each other before when skating was involved and yet they’ve never actually talked about it, not like this, without obligations, without an aim.

Other topics come easy after that, skating to dance to music to movies to friends and Donghyuck must begrudgingly admit that everyone was right and they truly are very similar, aside from Yangyang's abysmal taste in music. Donghyuck will have to do something about that if they are to become friends because he absolutely refuses to be friends with someone who has zero songs made before 2010 on their playlist. 

At one point Yangyang tentatively asks about Donghyuck’s ankle and how it’s going and Donghyuck reminds himself that honesty is the basis of a good relationship with anyone and answers him truthfully, tells him what a bitch physio is and how he’s really not making as much progress as he would like. Yangyang gives him a pat on the hand in sympathy and says that he really can’t imagine not being allowed on the ice for so long, which is how they get to Donghyuck’s plans to not spend his every free moment playing League, which quickly derails their conversation because it turns out that Yangyang also plays League and that’s much more interesting than Donghyuck’s lack of hobbies.

Finding out that Yangyang, unlike himself, is Platinum rank in League, makes Donghyuck briefly reconsider the whole making friends thing out of pure pettiness because he has been trying so hard to get there and he still hasn’t. He quickly realises that he can use this fact to his advantage though and adds Yangyang to his gaming kkt groupchat, promising to shoot him a message whenever he’s doing something interesting in the game.

...

Joke is on every one of Donghyuck’s friends who said that gaming won’t be any useful to getting his life back in order because over the next few weeks League ends up being the facilitator of most discussions between him and Yangyang. They still meet twice per week for training and it is both more pleasant and more productive now that they’re actually friendly towards each other, but the majority of non-skating talking they do is in the early hours in the morning when all of Donghyuck’s usual gaming buddies tend to be asleep but Yangyang is well awake and ready to kick some ass. 

It’s during one of these sessions that Yangyang complains that he’s getting April off from training and has no idea what he’s going to do for a whole month because he knows next to nothing about Seoul and what there is to do, which is when Donghyuck remembers his friends wanted him to find some hobbies and comes up with the genius idea of them going through Donghyuck’s ‘things to do’ list together. He says as much to Yangyang, who seals the deal with a “Fuck yeah dude, we totally should.” 

Thus begins what Donghyuck would dub the weirdest month of perhaps his entire life as they sign up for classes and workshops and basically anything either of them comes across. Some of them don’t work out too well, like painting (let’s just say that their bowls of fruit were very abstract and that Donghyuck still has paint on his favourite shirt) and soap making (everyone in their class is over 60 and neither Donghyuck nor Yangyang should ever be allowed close to chemicals again), some are so bad that they can do nothing but laugh (pottery, Donghyuck gifts his tiny misshapen bowl to Mark as a return gift for the spoon he got from him). Some of them are pretty alright like Japanese cooking class (well, Donghyuck does pretty well in that one. Yangyang, it turns out, has never held a kitchen knife in his life), flower arrangement (Yeorum forced them into that one after she saw some idol group do it and she was very happy about the two only slightly misshapen bouquets she got the next day). Cake decorating is fun if only because they get to eat their creation in the end (which is really the only thing it’s good for, it definitely is not a piece of art) and crazy golf turns out to be entertaining even if neither of them are particularly good at it. 

Jaemin and Renjun, who combined make a whole devil, sign them up for a nude painting class which they decide to skip out of respect for whichever soul is willing to model for such thing. Mark takes them to an art gallery he has to go to as part of a college assignment and Donghyuck almost gets left in there because he finds an exhibition that makes something in him move and he just stands in the room starstruck while Mark and Yangyang happily proceed forward, chatting about something in English. He makes them buy him food as apology.

The whole experience works as some sort of friendship accelerator, getting him and Yangyang from not talking outside situations that absolutely required it to talking every day, over text or in person, especially as the rest of the skaters leave for Stars on Ice mid-May, leaving them behind with Jeno and Jaemin who have traded the skating arena for bikes and Mark, whose exams start at the end of May, so really by themselves. As time passes there is gradually less trying weird hobbies and more just hanging out, Donghyuck showing Yangyang the best spots to eat in Seoul and Yangyang dragging him to the tourist spots that no Seoulite ever visits because why would they. The view from Namsan Tower may be objectively beautiful but it is not worth having to weave through hoards of foreign couples trying to add their little lock to the already bursting fence. 

It is on one of such evening when, fuelled by beer and ramyun and the view of the Han river, Donghyuck finally finds the courage to ask what he has been wondering about since March. They’re sitting on the grass and people-watching, which means he doesn’t have to look at Yangyang as he does it.

“Hey,” that gets him a hum, “remember that week before the Worlds when you came to pick me up and you, um, cried in my hallway?” There was probably a better way to word that, but, well, that was what happened.

“Yes? What about it?” 

“Well, were you crying because of me? Like, was I really that horrible to you?” He feels like he can ask now, them friendly enough to discuss the past like rational adults. Yangyang stays quiet for a while, watching some kids nearby try to do skateboard tricks and falling on their asses. Donghyuck wonders if that means yes until Yangyang speaks.

“Not really, no. Like, you yelling at me definitely didn’t exactly help. But it was also just a shitty day. Like, I was already stressed because of the Worlds and then I got broken up with so that was lovely and then your dog reminded me of my dog back home and made me all homesick and yeah.. It was just a pretty bad damn week.”

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m really sorry for yelling at you. It’s a shitty excuse but I was dealing with some stuff.”

Yangyang chuckles. “I’m aware. It’s all good now, don’t worry about it.”

A silence settles over them, but it’s not uncomfortable now. There are more things Donghyuck wants to ask but it feels like too much now, the mood already somewhat heavier than usual. They look over the river and at the kids, their perseverance honestly admirable, if not fruitful. Only one of them can do an ollie.

Eventually, Donghyuck gives in to his curiosity. “Were you dating someone here?”

“Hm? No, long distance. Had a boyfriend in Germany.” 

“A skater?”

“No, we went to high school together. It’s a long story.” Yangyang shakes his beer can, tries to get the last droplets of alcohol into his mouth. “Hey, wanna get wasted?” Donghyuck hasn’t been wasted in months. Possibly years. Fuck yes he does.

...

Compared to the banks of the Han river, Donghyuck’s apartment offers several improvements: glasses, which they definitely could’ve done without but which make mixing beer and soju easier, speakers, the cord of which Donghyuck takes as soon as they walk in because he is not letting Yangyang play his music no matter how drunk or sad he is and most importantly air conditioning, which comes in especially handy sometime around the second glass when Donghyuck’s cheeks start to burn and judging by how flushed Yangyang is he is not doing much better. He keeps claiming that he obviously has better alcohol tolerance since he is basically German but considering how those claims are already slurred Donghyuck calls bullshit.

There’s a moment of quiet somewhere after the third glass, both of them sitting with their back to the couch, staring somewhere into the void of the turned off tv screen. Donghyuck is considering how wasted he would rate himself on a scale of 3 to 12.5. He’s just settled on a solid 9 when Yangyang speaks.

“You know, I still can’t believe he just dumped me.”

“Your ex?”

“Hm. Like, I know thinking we could do long distance was probably stupid. But it would’ve been our third anniversary this summer. You’d think we would make it longer than three damn months after all that time together.”

“Oh damn. That’s a long ass relationship.” Donghyuck can’t really imagine dating someone for that long. “My longest relationship ever was like eight weeks or something.”

“Does that even count as a relationship?”

“Hell yes it does. Changed the facebook status and everything. You can’t get more official than that.” That makes Yangyang laugh, loud and obnoxious, before quieting down again.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yeah? I don’t know honestly. Like, it’s not even been two months yet? So I’m still sort of mad. But I miss being in a relationship, you know. Having someone care about how your day was. Dates. Cuddles. Kissing. God I miss kissing.”

Donghyuck can relate. “Kissing is so good.” He takes a swig of his drink, leans his head back on the seat of the couch, stares into the ceiling. “Could totally kiss someone right now,” he muses, the alcohol making words feel heavy on his tongue. When he lifts his head again and looks at Yangyang, he finds the other already looking at him, gaze contemplative.

“What?” 

“You know, we could just like, kiss each other.”

Donghyuck’s brain takes a bit to process that. “Is this some sort of rebound thing.” 

Yangyang scrunches his eyebrows. “No, not in the way you’re thinking. I just really miss kissing, ok? And just like… touches. And, well, unless you have a secret crush on me why not?”

Donghyuck contemplates that. It’s not like he hasn’t made out with his friends before. He definitely doesn’t have a crush on Yangyang. He can’t come up with a reason why not.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Yeah.” It’s him who leans in, Yangyang staying still despite being the one who’d suggested it in the first place. Donghyuck watches his pupils dilate and his gaze slide down to his lips and then he’s closing his own eyes and then they are kissing.

Yangyang’s lips are soft and taste like alcohol and his breath hitches before he starts kissing Donghyuck back, a hand coming to cradle his jaw. It’s probably the most chaste kiss Donghyuck has ever had while drunk, their mouths staying closed, bodies unmoving, only soft presses of lips, noses brushing, Yangyang’s thumb on Donghyuck’s cheek. It’s missing the need, Donghyuck realises, that party encounters usually involve, the kissing only a prelude to clothes being taken off frantically, the searing want to have everything, to have it fast, to have it now. Instead, it’s just kissing for the sake of kissing, for the sake of touch, for the sake of not being sad for a moment.

It’s a minute or five or fifteen into them kissing that Donghyuck licks at Yangyang’s lips and his tongue comes back tasting salty and he doesn’t understand at first, brain too foggy with everything happening, but then he lifts a hand to mirror Yangyang’s on his cheek and his fingers touch wet skin and that’s when he realises what is happening. He pulls away but leaves his hand on Yangyang’s cheek, thumb running over teartracks.

“Are you crying?” Which is a stupid thing to ask when Donghyuck can see the tears in his eyes, but his brain doesn’t understand how Yangyang is both crying and kissing him.

Yangyang smiles, sad and watery. “Yeah. Sorry. I just…” he blinks tears from his eyes and they run over Donghyuck’s thumb still on his cheek. “I just never kissed anyone aside from my ex, you know? It’s… different.” He swallows, looking down on his lap and Donghyuck finally drops his hand from his face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. Guess this made all of it finally feel real.”

Donghyuck does what he should’ve done the first time he had seen him cry and reaches out for him then, curls him into his chest, kisses the top of his head and lets him cry. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Thanks for kissing me.”

“You too.” Donghyuck means it, thinks they both do, even if they both chuckle a little at the ridiculousness of it all.

They drink some more after Yangyang has stopped crying, bringing Donghyuck’s laptop over and showing each other funny videos, something to distract themselves until the alcohol makes their eyelids heavy. When that happens Donghyuck brings his spare blankets and a shirt for Yangyang into the living room and draws them a glass of water each before he heads to bed, every inch of his being heavy the way only alcohol makes it. The world spins with him as he tries to fall asleep but it feels somewhat fitting for tonight. He slips one leg from the bed to keep himself from getting dizzy and closes his eyes, lets the heaviness take him under.

...

June comes with a heatwave and the start of regular training again. Donghyuck spends an hour fighting with doctor Lim and Mr. Moon, his physical therapist, but in the end they make him do an exercise that shoots pain through his whole leg and he has to agree that his ankle is not ready for him to be on skates again. He’s allowed to go back to all the non-ice exercise though, which is a win in and of itself, meaning that he will be able to get back his strength and mobility, maybe do some fun dance classes with Jisung at the dance studio. The season is still not completely lost is what he tells himself, maybe they will make good progress and he will be able to start training in a month or two. The first half of this season is what qualifies skaters for the Olympics next year and there is no way he will miss those if he can.

For now, though, he pours all his energy into training with Yangyang, who had decided to stay on for this season. They’d talked about it over the break, trying to come up with ideas for his skates, trying to figure out what to change from last year to get better results. There had to be a reason why coach wanted them to work together, they agree on that, but they can’t quite figure it out until coach tells them point-blank.

“Yangyang is a good skater, he has the skills on the ice, he has a good amount of performativness. But his skates are, no offence, what I have seen a hundred times before. There are two reasons why I wanted you here, Donghyuck. The first is what I think we’ve already seen last season - you are a smart skater and you think when you skate. You think about technique and that’s why you master it so well. That’s why your jumps are excellent most of the time. I have seen Yangyang improve in that sense over the past half year and you can claim most credit for that. The other thing, though, will come in now. You are not afraid to take risks with your skates. Your routines last season were both excellent and I dare say something no one has seen anyone skate before outside exhibition galas, not while getting the technical scores you were getting with them. And that’s what makes you an impressive skater in my eyes. And I would like some of that energy to carry over to Yangyang. I want to show people what he can do and I would like it to not blend into the 15 other routines the judges are going to see that evening. Understand?”

That is probably the highest praise Donghyuck has ever gotten from coach. He is not quite sure how to deal with it. “Yes sir, thank you. We’ll try to figure something out for the next session.”

Yangyang nods enthusiastically, already on his way out of coach’s room and somewhere where they can contemplate this between the two of them.

…

Choosing the music turns out to be a bigger ordeal than Donghyuck had thought, mainly because he usually does this alone and it consists of him browsing through youtube/melon until he finds a song that makes his brain implode a little bit and then trying to figure out a skate complimentary to it. That is much harder to do when he is not alone and the other person has less than stellar music taste. 

They’ve started by making a list of all Yangyang’s skates, mainly to know what to avoid and ended up with: no Disney, no prince themes in general, no musical theatre and no comedy. Also no Beethoven but Donghyuck rarely ventures into classical music anyway so that is less of a concern. They have three general ideas this could go, which is dark, sexy, and sad, which narrows the selection down very little. They’ve been at this for approximately four hours and Donghyuck has rejected four Justin Bieber songs already and thinks they should probably take a break.

“I think we need to narrow this down a little bit more. Like, what are we aiming for here.”

“Shock value?” Yangyang looks like he also does not want to do this anymore. 

“Well yes, but what else? Also, shock value is a fickle thing, you need to shock but not so much that they don’t give you component points. We need to remember most of the judges are over 50.”

“You skate to stuff everyone over fifty would find offensive!”

“Fair. But that’s what’s expected of me. They’re expecting that. Plus if they score me down on components I can usually make up for that with GOE.”

“Show off. So what you’re saying we need new but not too new?”

“Exactly. They’ll be expecting something boring like Exogenesis Overture or Coldplay or whatever but no, not this time.”

“First of all, nothing wrong with either of those. Second, going off of that.. If not Exogenesis, can we do a different Muse song? Because I feel like I haven’t seen anyone do that before.”

Actually not the worst idea. “Ok, which one? Thoughts?”

“I… don’t actually know any other Muse songs.” 

Donghyuck sighs. “Of course you don’t, you hopeless hypebeast. Let us listen to some Muse then.”  
…

It takes two days and some convincing from the two of them that it will work for coach Kim to approve the music but in the end he does and Saturday finds Donghyuck, Yangyang and Jisung’s choreography teacher Ten in the dance studio, heads together as they listen to the tracks back to back. Donghyuck had taken dance classes taught by Ten and worked with him on his choreography last season and he knows the guy is nothing short of genius, which is why they are where they are. He cocks his head as he’s listening, eyes closed, fingers moving to the beat, hands drawing patterns in the air. “Genius,” Donghyuck mouths at Yangyang, who nods.

Undisclosed Desires finishes playing and Ten opens his eyes, sets his hands down, blinks slowly. “Alright, so, from what we have I’m getting the theme is love, but a little dark, a little twisted? Yearning, hidden away? Seductive and also dangerous? Also, we’ll have to cut Desperado for the short, am I right?”

Donghyuck knew he could count on him. Across from him Yangyang looks like Ten has just performed some forbidden but very cool magic, which, to be fair, Ten’s ability to understand Donghyuck’s thinking when it comes to music and concepts sort of is. Donghyuck grins at the both of them. He’s excited for this. He hasn’t been excited in a very long time.

The season formally starts in August, even though there are no senior competitions just yet. Over the past two moths Donghyuck had been training with Yangyang, June spent in discussions with Ten and their official choreographers, trying to get the skates exactly where they want them and July actually starting to train proper, the newly made skates requiring several elements Yangyang is not familiar with as well as some that don’t really exist in figure skating yet that Ten created. His role in the process helps Donghyuck at least somewhat come to terms with the fact that he will most likely not be competing this season either, physical therapy proceeding slower than what would be needed for him to actually train. 

He knows this means losing a chance at the Olympics at his prime, knows it inches him closer and closer to never competing again, maybe never even putting skates on again. He tried to fight doctor Lim and Mr. Moon in the beginning of summer, tried to do all the off-ice exercise to show them that he was ready, but they refused to clear him for skating and he is not foolish enough to try and skate when he’s been so explicitly told it might hinder him even further so he just tries to think about it as little as possible.

It’s well into September when doctor Lim finally says he’s allowed to put skates on, no training yet, no jumps, but he is allowed on the ice and Donghyuck actually jumps with joy right there in the office before doctor Lim sternly reminds him that this is still something he is not supposed to be doing. He takes his skates with him to training, planning to stay after and use the rink once everyone is gone, somehow reluctant to share his joy with the world yet.

He ends up telling Yangyang anyway, the excitement too big for him to keep through the three hour session, and allows him to stay with him under the excuse of the two of them extending the training session a little bit. It really isn’t anything to be sneaky about, but it feels so big to Donghyuck, so important, that the idea of having more people being there scares him a little. 

He watches everyone shuffle into the locker rooms and then out of the stadium, the sound of Yangyang’s skates the only thing audible in the arena. He only opens his bag after he hears the door close behind them and it feels surreal to be taking his skates out again after so long, like seeing a friend you thought had moved abroad for good. He laces up his good foot first, the tightness of it feeling foreign after so long. He will need to break his skates in, but that is a small price to pay for being on the ice again. He laces the other skate over his injured ankle, the ankle of his sole giving him slight discomfort but no pain and then he just sits there for a minute, looking at his feet, taking the moment in.

When he looks up Yangyang is standing by the barrier, motioning for him to join him and Donghyuck is about to stand up when he suddenly remembers - the fall, the pain, hitting the barrier. The foreign hospital room, the agony of the first couple weeks of physiotherapy. The fall again, the twist of his foot when he landed, the nausea the pain caused. Coach Kim saying that it was a fault in the skate that caused it. The way it felt to not be able to overcome the pain, the disorientation of being injured, the fog in his brain when he was on morphine. Suddenly, he is rooted in his seat, paralysed, unable to do anything, the ugly thing coming back into his chest and his throat and his limbs. His body nothing but the ugly thing.

“Hyuck, hey. Are you alright?” Yangyang, touching his shoulder, shaking him a little. He sounds scared and Donghyuck realises that he is breathing really fast, his heart beating a million beats per hour while his body can’t move an inch. He closes his eyes, drops his head, focuses. Breathes slower.

“Hyuck, is everything ok? Do you need anything?” 

“I… fuck. It’s ok, I’ll be fine. I’m just… I’m scared.” His voice is small when he says it, he feels like if he admits it out loud it will actually break him. He has never been scared on the ice. Of the ice. It had been the only constant in his life. And now… “Fuck.”

Yangyang squats down to look him in the eye as he speaks. “Hey, it’s alright. The last time you were on the ice was not exactly fun for you. But you’ve got the skates already, would be a shame if you didn’t at least try, right? I can hold your hand and I promise there will be no falling.” He smiles like one would at a scared child and Donghyuck supposes he is no better than one right now, even if he has no objective thing to fear. He swallows.

“Ok. Fuck. Let’s do it.” 

He had sort of thought Yangyang meant the hand holding as a joke but he holds out a hand for him to take the moment Donghyuck starts to get up and he clutches onto it, holding on for dear life. The walk from first row to the ice has never been longer the five steps feeling like infinity to Donghyuck, his legs wobbly, his grip on Yangyang hand probably hard enough to hurt. Yangyang doesn’t say anything though, just walks him all the way to the ice, helps him get the covers off his skates, helps him hop over the little step in the barrier. 

Being on the ice is… strange. This is what Donghyuck wanted, what he longed for for the past ten months, he would trade everything for it. And yet, while his body remembers what to do, his brain refuses to let it. Figure skating, above all else, requires absolute commitment to every element. If you don’t commit 110% you will fall. That’s just the way it is. But Donghyuck just can’t.

It’s frustrating and awful and just plain wrong, being on the ice and feeling like this, feeling anything but free. He keeps clutching Yangyang’s hand and he takes him around the rink the way one would someone who had never skated before, Donghyuck doing nothing but standing there, his brain refusing to let his limbs do the work he knows they know how to do. Neither of them says anything and Donghyuck is grateful for that, too many thoughts swirling in his head, none of them concrete and all of them ugly.

They skate two, three laps and then Yangyang guides him off the ice gently, like hoarding a scared animal, walks him all the way back to the bleachers. Donghyuck takes his skates off, the motions automatic, apparently the only thing he has retained from before the injury. He puts the skates back into their bag, puts his shoes on, stares at the rink for a moment. Wonders if he will ever be able to feel at home there again.

Yangyang doesn’t move from his side the whole time, eyebrows knotted but silent, clearly letting Donghyuck take the lead here. Donghyuck is suddenly very very glad he didn’t tell anyone else about this.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He says, sounding hollow.

“Don’t worry. Want me to drive you back home? I just need to change into normal clothes.”

“Yes please.” He feels like he’s going to burst into tears very soon and he would rather not do that on public transport.

He’s in Yangyang’s car when the first couple teardrops slide down his face, a silent vanguard for the storm that starts when he closes his apartment door behind himself, tears falling unrestrained and sobs ugly, the way he hasn’t cried since he first got back from Moscow. He can’t quite articulate why he is crying so much but that only makes him cry harder for some reason. He thinks he is mourning, maybe. Mourning what, he doesn’t know.

...

Donghyuck never tells anyone what happened, aside from doctor Lim who listens to him and then fishes in her drawers for a brochure about therapy that Donghyuck sticks into a drawer of his bedside table and pointedly does not think about. He continues his life as if he hadn’t been cleared to skate yet, keeping his focus on the couple dance classes that he had signed up for and Yangyang’s training. The season is in full swing now and they’ve had first competitions and the results are good, even with what they call the easier version of the programs, the jump difficulties (and thus technical scores) lower than what they have planned for when it really counts. 

They’re working on a quad flip now, which is arguably one of the hardest jumps out there, but Donghyuck is sure Yangyang can get to a point where he lands it well the majority of the time. They’re at a solid 40% now, which is already pretty damn good. Plus, the base value of a quad flip is worth it even with the subtracted point in the case he falls. 

With Skate America just around the corner they barely register Chuseok, too busy preparing to care about holidays besides the obligatory dinner with his family that Donghyuck spends thinking about skating anyway. If he can’t get to the Grand Prix final himself, he is hell-bent on getting Yangyang there at least. Their program is good enough, or so the whole team thinks. If executed well and with the judges in Yangyang’s favour, it should be enough to get him into the final six at least. It’s one of the things keeping Donghyuck up and running through the end of December and start of October.  
…

It is only when Yangyang leaves for the States that Donghyuck realises how accustomed he had become to the other’s presence, how much of his day was spent Yangyang at his side. How that was one of the things keeping him running as well. With the time difference between them, it’s not easy to even text and Donghyuck finds himself missing the everyday banter, missing the way Yangyang would nudge him when he was spacing out, missing the jokes and the gentle “Are you alright? Wanna talk?” that Yangyang got into the habit of asking him after the incident with the ice.

He just misses Yangyang, plain and simple. It overpowers even his anxiety about the results of the competition, the nerves coming in only when the event actually starts. They’re watching it in Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin’s flat since no one but Yangyang and the coach went to the States meaning they need a bigger couch than Donghyuck is capable of providing. Donghyuck clutches Mark’s hand the whole two and a half hours of the men’s short, only releasing him once it is clear that Yangyang has placed third, which puts him in a good position for the free skate tomorrow. Nothing is won yet, but nothing is lost, either.

The second day is even more nerve-wrecking than the first, but Yangyang ends up landing his quad flip and basically nailing the rest of the program and even though Donghyuck is less than happy with his component score he ends up coming second which is simultaneously exactly what they have been striving for and above and beyond anything they have been expecting. Donghyuck goes to pick him up at the airport two days later and Yangyang hangs the medal around his neck, grinning the whole time. He radiates happiness the same way the sun radiates sunshine and Donghyuck lets himself bask in it for a little bit, feed off its energy. If he wasn’t already putting everything he had into making Yangyang succeed, he would certainly start now just to be able to see him this happy again.

They return to practice with vigor, tweaking and perfecting what they can, the finals now seemingly in reach. Yangyang is as close to them as Donghyuck was last year and they have three weeks between Skate America and Tropheé de France to do everything in their power to get him there. A lot of that is performance-based, the components scores being where there is most space for improvement. Part of that hangs purely on the judges being old farts and against anything interesting, but Donghyuck knows that if you sell it perfectly, even the old farts usually admit you did a great job. 

They have Ten over a lot for this, sitting on the barrier, legs dangling over the ice and yelling things at Yangyang in English that Donghyuck only understands sometimes. Yangyang seems to get it though and Donghyuck watches from the sidelines as his gaze gets sharper but his gestures softer for Desperado, the contrast between the almost dream-like, gentle motions and the sharpness of the jumps making Yangyang’s skills stand out more. The program for Undisclosed Desires is much more self-assured, cocky almost, but Ten had wanted to make it feel ethereal, otherworldly to match the instrumental of the song. “You want to seduce all of them,” Ten had said when he introduced the concept to them, “but they have to know that they can’t have you.”

Yeorum comes with the idea of using make up to complement the iridescent costume Yangyang has for that skate and Donghyuck can only applaud her genius (and her make-up skills) when he sees Yangyang step out onto the ice for his free skate, tiny specks of glitter exaggerating the sharpness of his cheekbones and eyeliner making his eyes stand out. He looks alluring and unattainable and unreal, like a fantasy game character come alive as he starts skating and the light catches on the crystals of his top, on his cheekbones, on what has to be lipgloss on his lips. Donghyuck has seen the skate a million times by now but even he finds himself enchanted, staring at his face on the tv and forgetting to keep track of any technical errors for later feedback. It’s only when Yangyang does his final bow, breath heaving, that Donghyuck remembers to close his mouth and come back to reality, his heart speeding up for a whole different reason as they wait for the scores.

Yangyang doesn’t win but it’s very very close and unless something very unexpected happens this means he is in the final and Donghyuck wishes he were in Grenoble with him so they could celebrate it together. Instead he gets a very enthusiastic and phone call the second broadcasting ends, the connection shitty but Yangyang’s smile a million watts even in its pixelated form and an armful of screaming Yangyang at the airport days later. He spins him around in joy until his arms protest and coach Kim actually laughs at their antics as they stand there after, just grinning at each other, happy.

They have a full month between Tropheé de France and the finals and they would probably spend all of it, 24/7, in the stadium, if it hadn’t been for coach who forces them to take two break days per week. It’s on one of those forced break days when Yangyang drags him to Jongnogu under the pretence of missing Germany and wanting to get into the Christmas spirit now that it is December. Donghyuck must admit that the tiny houses of the Christmas market look adorable and some of the food definitely looks edible but he realises he has been fooled once they stand at the far end of the square.

“Let me get this straight. You brought us, on a day when we’re explicitly banned from training, to a skating rink.”

Yangyang’s smile is brighter than the Christmas lights. “Yes. But also we’re not here to train. We’re here to just have fun! More importantly, you are here to have fun! Skating!”

Oh. They’ve made several attempts since the first, disastrous one, to get Donghyuck back on the ice without fear paralysing his entire body, always after the hours when everyone else was gone and never successfully. There is something that rises up in his throat and ties his limbs still every time, no matter how ready he thinks he is.

“I thought,” Yangyang’s face is soft, voice careful, “maybe if we changed the context of it, your brain would feel better about it? There’s no pressure to be a skater here. It’s just to have fun. We don’t have to though.”

Donghyuck considers it. On the one side, there isn’t much reason why this should be any different to every other time he had tried to get back on the ice. On the other, he is willing to try anything to get past this stage. And Yangyang is right, the ice is full of people just barely making it around the rink, little kids with their knees and gloves soaked from falling and couples holding hands for balance. No one expects anything from him here. He nods, steels himself for what will probably be another failure.

Yangyang runs off to obtain skates and gloves for them and Donghyuck bounces on his feet as he waits, both to let out his sudden nerves and to keep himself warm. He watches a little girl fall for what must be the fifth time and get up with a bright smile, try again. She would make a good figure skater, he thinks. 

Donghyuck spends an excessive time inspecting the skates when Yangyang brings them, trusting them rather less than his professional ones, but finding them to be pretty good quality for a public rink like this one where really the only requirement for a skate is something that has a blade on the bottom. He changes into them, tucks his shoes into one of the lockers on the side and takes a deep breath. Yangyang is already in his skates, offering him a hand the way he had done every time since the first attempt. Donghyuck takes it, laces their gloved fingers and they walk toward the ice together.

He waits for the dread that usually accompanies this, for the flashbacks of the Moscow stadium, the fall, the pain, but they never come, his brain focusing instead on the Christmas music on the speakers, the twinkling lights, the warmth of Yangyang’s hand through the gloves. They get on the ice and normally this is the time when Donghyuck freezes completely, when he just lets Yangyang drag him alond like a doll, but this time he’s looking at the little girl, her knees wet and her cheeks pink and they make eye contact for a moment and suddenly Donghyuck wants to show her that he too, can fall and then get back up. 

He keeps holding Yangyang’s hand but he doesn’t let him get in front, doesn’t flex his fingers into a grip so frantic it hurts. Instead, he looks at Yangyang, gives him a nod and pushes off, and his body remembers, of course it does after so many years, and then he is skating again. Slow and not very pretty, but he is going forward on his own and then he lets go of Yangyang’s hand and spins and he feels the rush of it, the joy, the love that had been buried under his fear for much too long. He spins and spins, wild and uncoordinated and throws his head back, laughs loud over the carols on the radio as it seeps back into every inch of his being, makes him feel like he’s flying. 

Yangyang skates up to him again, takes his hand and they finish the lap together, as fast as they dare with other people around, laughter fading into smiles and twinkling eyes as they skate around each other for the reminder of the hour, Donghyuck trying out all the tricks that don’t require jumping and Yangyang swirling around him, doing most of them better and laughing when Donghyuck trips over his pick, something no figure skater over the age of five does. He catches him nonetheless, saving his knees and palms and making him do a twirl as if they were ice dancing and then Donghyuck is just sort of in his arms and Yangyang is looking at him and Donghyuck feels something in the air shift, suspects the pace of his breathing has more to do with the way Yangyang is looking at him than the physical activity, the newly rediscovered love for skating not the only cause of the gentle fluttering in his stomach. The moment is suspended in time, the music fading away as they stand there and Donghyuck’s eyes slip down to Yangyang’s lips and he thinks this is it, this is actually happening, before Yangyang’s lips twist on a grin and he pushes him away, yelling “Race you!”, the moment broken, Donghyuck left scrambling to catch up, both mentally and physically. 

They weave through the crowd at the market afterwards, Yangyang joyfully ordering them German things that Donghyuck can’t ever hope to pronounce the names of and the joy never fades away and neither does the fluttering in his stomach. That, if anything, gets more pronounced when Yangyang tangles their fingers together so as not to lose Donghyuck during his frantic search for the perfect bratwurst. He watches the lights reflect in Yangyang’s eyes and the smile that stays etched on his face the whole day and it slots into place slowly, the realisation that somewhere along the way he has fallen for him. He’s not quite sure what to do with that realisation but he decides nothing needs to be done about it right now, not when there is so much joy living warm in his chest.

Donghyuck decides to fly out to Beijing with the team for the Grand Prix finals, the idea of having to sit at home and watch torturous. They fly out a day before and find Beijing cold and cloudy, not that it really matters considering they will be spending all their time in the stadium. It’s the first time Donghyuck has been physically present at an international competition since the fall and it’s bittersweet seeing his friends skate when he can’t, being simultaneously part of the competition and a spectator, only there because someone else is. He’s nervous all the same, possibly even more nervous than he would be if it were him competing. Yangyang is nervous too, he can see it, and it’s understandable seeing how he wasn’t really one of the people predicted to end up in the finals this year, his results previously always a couple points short of the qualifying places. He is here now though and he has as good a chance as everyone else at getting on the victory stands.

They have an allocated training slot for the evening and then one the next morning before the start of the short programs and until then, there is nothing to do but wait, Donghyuck finding himself pacing around his room, fidgeting, unable to stay still, too much nervous energy running through his veins. Maybe he should’ve accepted the offer to go explore the city with some of the other skaters to take his mind off of tomorrow, to tire himself out a little. He does much better when they’re practicing and he has something to do, even if his recent feeling realisation has made it a bit more difficult to focus on the skating aspect and not the Yangyang aspect of the whole thing.

Yangyang looks a lot less nervous in practice the next morning while Donghyuck feels like he will lose his mind before this competition even begins, the nerves barely letting him sleep and he is not used to this, he was never like this when he was in the competition, doesn’t know why it’s so different now. It is objectively funny that it’s him who gets the “it will be alright, this is what all the training has been for, we’re prepared” talk from coach, not Yangyang. Well, Yangyang also gets it, but it is in the very last moment before his skate, him and coach speaking over the barricade before he skates out into the middle of the ice and lifts his arms, ready for the music to start.

Donghyuck doesn’t think he breathes once during the whole 2 and a half minutes of the skate, his eyes never leaving Yangyang, going through the choreography in his brain as he watches it unfold before him. If Yangyang feels nervous he doesn’t show it, his footing stable and his performance enticing the way Ten had taught him to be. He’s definitely much more captivating than the first two skaters and Donghyuck hopes the judges see and appreciate the work put into that as well as the intricacy of the program. It’s the longest and shortest skate at the same time, both stretching out to infinity and over in the blink of an eye.

Before he knows it they’re waiting for the scores and Yangyang is clutching his hand and smiling, still breathing hard from the exertion and it really is not an appropriate moment for Donghyuck to be thinking about how pretty he is but that sure doesn’t stop his brain from doing it, his eyes stuck somewhere at tho corner of Yangyang’s mouth as he looks expectantly at the small screen in front of them. He only registers the score being given when Yangyang jumps up a little, takes his hand away from Donghyuck’s arms to clap excitedly. Currently in first place means he has a fair shot at going into the final as one of the medal hopefuls. There are still three people to skate, but he will be fourth at worst, keeping the same starting position as today. 

They stay to watch the rest of the skaters, the stadium roaring when they do well, hushed when one of them falls. The final scores place Yangyang third meaning he will be skating fourth tomorrow. His current season’s best would let him keep that position after the free as well unless someone does exceptionally well and improves theirs by a good couple points, but thinking like that never really gets one anywhere, the counting of points only bothersome once it comes to actually skating. Donghyuck and Yangyang, having decided that they can’t deal with another evening of nervous pacing, set up their laptops in Donghyuck’s room and devote themselves to kicking some ass in League for the rest of the day. It works surprisingly well even if the hotel wifi is rather subpar, the pace of the game high enough to keep them both entertained, their anxieties about tomorrow fading away for a while.

They come back full force at the last practice the next morning, even though Yangyang doesn’t make any significant mistakes. Donghyuck wonders if all the other skaters feel this way too or if this is just another competition for them, nothing that interesting because they have been in the final before. It had always been the thing to aim for for Donghyuck, feeling unattainable even after he had won the Junior Grand Prix in his last couple years. And now he’s here and he may not be skating but he is far too invested anyway, feels like his whole life is depending on how well Yangyang does today.

There are two advantages to the final, Donghyuck notes. One, everyone here is a brilliant skater and it is incredible to see them skate up close, experience the programs first hand. Two, with only six skaters, it is over rather quickly. Unlike Worlds where they would be waiting for hours, there are only three people to skate before it’s Yangyang’s turn and they watch them on the screen in the locker room, Yangyang doing his warm-ups and glancing at the tv anxiously every so often. Donghyuck has no stretches to be doing to occupy his body so he is bouncing on his feet in the locker room and then next to the barricade as he watches Yangyang take the covers off his skates and get on the ice. He scrambles for the right thing to say and can’t find it but Yangyang looks at him like he hears it anyway, nods and then he is off to the ice, ready to show the world what he is made of.

And show the world he does. He messes up the landing of his flip a little but is brilliant otherwise, all hard edges and soft planes and hidden strength and Donghyuck forgets to be nervous in favour of just looking, lets himself be mesmerised, be seduced by the way Yangyang performs. Much like yesterday, it is over much faster than it should be, Yangyang standing in the centre waiting for music one second and taking his final bows the next, time warping with the movement of his skates. Donghyuck hands him his skate covers when he skates to them and grins at him, words insufficient for all the feelings in his chest, pride and joy and butterflies all mixed together.

Yangyang laces their fingers as they wait for the scores and even coach looks visibly nervous, the anticipation so thick you could cut it with a knife. Donghyuck doesn’t blink once as he stares at the little tv and then finally the scores are up and the stadium claps as the screen shows “current first place” and Donghyuck is throwing his hands in the air in celebration, looking over at Yangyang who is beaming at him, smile so wide it seems too big for his face. There is only joy and love in Donghyuck’s brain and he doesn’t really think about what he’s doing as he leans forward and kisses that smile, swallows the tiny sound Yangyang makes before he kisses him back - he kisses him back - all the joy of the moment in it, eager and uncoordinated, with smiles sneaking onto their faces and making it hard to kiss proper. They are disrupted by a very stern clearing of the throat from Yangyang’s right, where coach is still sitting, a mix of amusement and disapproval on his face.

“Boys, I don’t think this is what the skating union had in mind when they named this place the kiss and cry. Maybe keep that for later.”

Yangyang’s ears are bright red when Donghyuck looks at him and they both dissolve into laughter, too much happiness to be contained. Donghyuck catches his breath, schools his face into a more serious expression.

“Grand Prix final medalist Liu Yangyang, would you do me the favour of going on a date with me?”

He’s pretty sure he can hear coach roll his eyes at them but that isn’t going to stop him because Yangyang is smiling still and nodding and Donghyuck is happy, happy, happy.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, i luv u
> 
> if anyone was interested the songs for Donghyuck's skates are My Body by Perfume Genius and Human by Sevdaliza. Yangyang skates to Rihanna's Desperado and Muse's Undisclosed Desires
> 
> thank you to the lovely human who wrote this prompt, i went a little wild with it but i hope you will enjoy reading nonetheless. and every thanks to the lovely admin for being the kindest human on the planet
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kamyskamyska)


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